Sound the Bugle
by Bloody Fox
Summary: Harry recollects his life as he's dying. Oneshot


It was strange how it all came about. Orphaned as a child and falling into legend probably not long after first steps and cooing words that weren't quite right. Dropped on a doorstep in the dead of night, abandoned to a family that didn't know the meaning of the word 'love' unless it could fit into their neat view of the world. And then the letter came, sending them into a panic and running as far away as they could so their world didn't become anymore skewed than it already was, only to find it a futile effort when _they_ came.

A first year in a new place, a new school, with people who looked on in awe and, sometimes, hate, sorted into the house of red and gold and knowing that –no matter what- it would always have one over green and silver. I fell into place so well, doing what was expected of me without even knowing that I was the hero of the story. The troll, Fluffy, Snape, Quirrel, and Voldemort.

Second year with the Basilisk and having them all look with hate and suspicion and caution thinking that death was around the corner because no one else could possibly be the Heir of Slytherin when there was a parselmouth running about. The way they regretted their words when the beast lay slain and the youngest Weasley safely tucked into her parents' arms, and I, still alone and cold and shaken with the cold steel of the sword in my hand for comfort. But, for a moment, colors were brighter and everything was warm when I was drawn into a hug and thanked. It was gone just as fast.

A prisoner with a gaunt face and an emaciated frame looking up from the cover of the paper with no one telling why he was so important. The dementors that did as they will no matter what any one else claimed to the contrary. Death threats and pity filled stares. It made me nauseous to have them staring again. Saving Sirius despite the risks and playing with time through a device that should have never found place in a child's hands, no matter how mature that child was.

A tournament with dangers far greater than those a boy of any age to face with four names being drawn instead of three, and their faces falling hostile once again. Dragons, mermaids, and a maze full of nightmares, fighting to just have the right to survive at all. Stolen for a ritual that gave body back to the greatest evil in generations. It wasn't hard to sense that creeping darkness that swept the land on that single night though many were oblivious, either by choice or ignorance. I couldn't help but feel that same darkness inside me, thickening my blood and making it just as heavy as the weight of the student who had died that same night.

On the fifth year nothing had seemed to change. The paper running with rampant accusations of insanity, while the ministry began to steal the school out from under the Headmaster. Trying to protect the students by teaching them and discovered by the vile woman with a blood quill. A vision of Sirius being tortured, and a hall full of prophecies, one of them was mine. Ironic that the person I went to save, I had a hand in killing. I never would be able to forgive myself for that night.

Sixth year, seventh year, neither is really worth much mention. More torment. More anguish. Learning about the horcruxes and the fact that I was one. I suppose that I was childish for hoping that there would be a happy ending to all of this. Such a fool I was, then and now. Though I suppose that, even given the choice, I would still do this – sacrifice my life for them. And yet…

And yet here I lay, wounded, downed before my ultimate task. A soldier, forced to stop and give up because of the impossibility of continuing. Is it wrong to wish, at this moment, so many things were different? Wishing that I had run while I could, leaving them all to their fates, or wanting all my years to have been plays with happy endings… or maybe that I had died with my parents. Maybe, if they'd still been alive, they could have taken me away, hid me from the horrors of this world, but they weren't, and no one else had the decency to lead me away…

And I was left…

Alone…

Cold…

Laying here…

'_I think I hear a bugle playing…'_


End file.
